Day 7 With My Newborn: Surviving the First Week of Breastfeeding, Diapers, and Chaos
One Week With a Newborn: We Made It!
It’s official — I’ve survived my first Week with a Newborn. Seven days of nonstop feeding, crying (both of us), and laundry that multiplies like gremlins.
People say the first week with a newborn goes by fast. Those people are lying. It feels like we’ve lived a full year — in dog years.
Breastfeeding: The Ultimate Endurance Sport
I’m exclusively breastfeeding, which sounds peaceful until you realize it’s a 24/7 buffet. My baby eats approximately 47 times a day, and my right boob has officially been promoted to “employee of the month.”
Between cluster feeding and cracked nipples, I’ve accepted that privacy no longer exists. If you visit me, you’ll find me nursing, unbothered, and probably watching Love Is Blind while balancing a burp cloth on one shoulder like a seasoned pro.
First Week with a Newborn: The Diaper Explosion Era
Let’s talk about newborn diapers. I can now identify poop by sound alone — a skill I didn’t know I’d need. The “splat” means outfit change. The “silent assassin” means I’ll discover it later, usually after lifting her up in a white onesie.
We’ve gone through more wipes than an entire daycare. And my washing machine has never worked harder.
Pro tip: never say “she just pooped, we’re good.” That’s how the universe tests your confidence.
Sleep? A Distant Memory
Remember sleep? That magical thing that used to happen at night? Gone. My nights now consist of feeding, burping, changing, and questioning every baby grunt like a paranoid detective.
Babies make 65 different noises while sleeping — squeaks, grunts, sighs, and what I swear sounds like a baby goat auditioning for Jurassic Park. Every time I think she’s out cold, she stirs just enough to remind me who’s boss.
Postpartum Emotions Are Wild
This week, I cried because my baby sneezed. I also cried because I dropped a pacifier. The hormonal waves are real — and my husband has perfected the art of the “supportive-but-slightly-fearful” facial expression.
One minute I’m laughing, the next I’m sobbing into a burp cloth. But somehow, amidst the chaos, every tiny yawn and squeaky hiccup makes it all worth it.
The New Normal: Chaos and Coffee
Here’s what I’ve learned in seven days: motherhood is beautiful, brutal, and powered entirely by caffeine. My new scent is “Eau de Breastmilk with Notes of Dry Shampoo.”
The house is a mess. I’m a mess. The baby? Perfect.
So here’s to Week 2 — may it bring more sleep, less laundry, and a miracle where both boobs cooperate at the same time.
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